


Ancient Stones

by flowersheep



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, mentions of past suicide attempts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 05:30:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6143039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersheep/pseuds/flowersheep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feeling listless and lonely and haunted by memories of Camelot when he chooses to hide out in the citadel for a while, Merlin finds a bit of solace in a lost soldier in search of a meal and some company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ancient Stones

Merlin wakes to find himself on the floor, cheek pressed against the hard flagstone of the castle, images of a life long past still flashing through his mind. When he turns his head it’s to find the barrel of a gun pointed at him. His eyes travel up the length of the gun to the hands holding it in a white-knuckled grip, then up the arms to the face of a soldier. They make them young these days. Funny how things like that work. Merlin remembers the campaigns against child soldiers and the laws put in place to keep the youth away from war. Now desperation has driven humanity back to a practice they used to condemn as immoral. If you’re old enough to hold a weapon, you’re old enough to go to war. And someday, when the wars are over, the outcry against child soldiers will return, the campaigns will be reborn, the old laws once again enacted. Over the centuries Merlin has learned that all things move in cycles. Empires rise and fall, the moon waxes and wanes, seasons turn. So to do humans follow the tides of time.

The soldier’s wary eyes take in the small store room, the bedroll set up against one of the walls, the open pack beside it, the portable stove in the corner. Merlin doesn’t currently have any weapons, save for his hunting knife, but he’s had them before and he’ll probably have them again. For now he looks the part of a traveling refugee trying to survive by taking shelter wherever he can. It doesn’t convince the soldier to lower his gun. Good, Merlin thinks. He’ll live longer like that. Trust is too precious a commodity these days to just hand out to strangers in abandoned castles.

They remain at an impasse for a long time until Merlin hears the soldier’s stomach growl. An indecisive grimace crosses his face and Merlin knows he’s trying to decide whether he should steal Merlin’s food or not. It makes little difference to Merlin. He doesn't really need food, a fact he discovered when he attempted to starve himself after slitting his wrists hadn't worked. He just likes the taste of food and the act of cooking can be oddly soothing. The soldier’s stomach growls again and he takes a step forward, still hesitating.

How rare it is to find someone with morals these days, especially a soldier. Most would simply take his stuff and be done with it, probably even shoot him in the process. Merlin thinks of the knights, standing tall and proud in their red capes and holding tight to the vows they took to protect and serve their king. It brings a smile to his lips. Slowly, he sits up, keeping his hands in plain view. The soldier eyes him, hands tightening around his gun. He doesn’t relax until Merlin turns the portable stove on and cracks open a can of beans. On second thought, Merlin cracks open a second one as well. The soldier is probably starving.

They don’t speak a word to each other as Merlin heats the beans and serves them. The soldier’s dog tags hang around his neck, but Merlin doesn’t look at them. Attachments are something to be avoided in this day and age. Still, Merlin has been feeling lonely as of late, especially surrounded by evidence of his long forgotten past. So when the soldier takes Merlin’s face in his hands and presses their lips together Merlin doesn’t stop him. It starts out gentle and soft and Merlin lets it remain so for a while. He feels fragile in this stranger’s hands and it’s a strange feeling to exist alongside the knowledge that the power of the universe is at his fingertips. Merlin craves it, the reminder that underneath all that power and the weight of destiny he’s still human. He’s real and tangible. Sometimes Merlin feels like he’s slowly slipping away. The world passes him by and hardly seems to notice that he’s there. Other times the earth’s magic will surge through him and Merlin can barely remember why he’s tied down by the hunk of flesh that makes up his body.

So he relishes the way the way soldier’s solid weight pushes him into the soft material of his bedroll and how it feels when their skin touches. Fingertips trace the tattoos that decorate his skin; the tail of the dragon that curls around his hip, the triskelion over his heart, the druidic runes dancing over his body, the bear on his ribcage. A mouth trails hot kisses across his throat, his collarbones, down his body. The soldier takes Merlin in his mouth and he gasps, fingers twisting into his blanket, and Merlin realizes he can’t remember the last time he’s even spoken to another human being, much less fucked one.

The soldier scrambles away to grab Merlin’s container of healing salve. He’s over eager when he pushes his fingers inside, but Merlin clings to the pain. He’s Emrys, but he’s Merlin as well and he needs to remember that, needs to remember the clumsy village boy who looked for the best in everyone instead of expecting the worst. He rocks back onto the soldier’s hand, gripping at the man’s shoulders. There's nothing familiar about the face hovering above him, for which Merlin is grateful. He doesn't need more reminders of all the loss and pain he's suffered, just something real and human to focus on.

Merlin pushes himself up on his elbows to watch the soldier slick himself up, craning his neck to watch the cock slowly sink into him. It’s smooth and practically painless and so, so dissatisfying. Merlin wants hard and rough and fast. He wants to wake up tomorrow and still feel the ache of it. He wants bruises coloring his skin that he can see when he catches sight of his reflection. He wants to be reminded that he’s human, that he can bleed and bruise, that he has a heart beating in his chest. Merlin shoves the soldier off and watches his temporary lover back off, confused. The soldier opens his mouth, but before he can get even one work out Merlin pins him to the bedroll and straddles him. The soldier watches him with wide eyes and Merlin ponders, as he begins to slide down on the soldier’s hard cock, just how experienced this man is. Or maybe he’s only ever had time for simpering whores. Merlin takes the last couple inches of the soldier’s cock with a hard shove, pleased with how the man’s hips buck up involuntarily. Hands flutter nervously along Merlin’s hips until Merlin grabs hold of them and presses them hard against his skin and the soldier finally grips him with bruising strength.

The pace is fast, vicious. Merlin can feel the burning strain in his thighs and relishes it. He will ache when this is through and his only regret is that the ache won’t last, will fade away into nothing and leave him lost and drifting again. The soldier’s hips are starting to grow frantic, his fingers digging into Merlin’s skin. He’s close. Merlin wraps a hand around himself, frantic, biting his lip, losing all rhythm as his head falls back and he comes hard. The soldier takes charge again, flips him over and pounds into him a few more times before biting down on Merlin’s shoulder to muffle his groan as he spills himself inside. He collapses on Merlin, panting, smearing Merlin’s come between them. Their sweat slick skin starts to cool. The soldier shivers. Closing his eyes, Merlin lets his magic seek out his blanket and drag it over them. He thinks for a moment that he should probably clean up the mess they've made between themselves, but the soldier is already snoring softly against his neck and he can't bring himself to disturb him. So for now Merlin closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy the warm presence of another body beside him.


End file.
